The Hunt
by shame of slytherin
Summary: What happens when you and I have a scavenger hunt is nothing compared to a Slytherin Scavenger Hunt. Could also be called The Comic Misadventures of Slytherin Sixth Year, Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter One: The Hunt

"The game is simple, boys," David Adalwulf said, his smile spreading across his pale face.

"Ahem."

"And girls," corrected Alan Montague, the retiring Slytherin House Representive. "As you all know David and I are graduating in a few short months, and so comes the time that I must choose my successor." He paused, and David looked at him intently.

"Right. And David must choose his." David was the head of Slytherin prefects.

Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass looked at each other, then around the room, sizing up their competition. Pansy stared longlingly at Draco Malfoy for a moment, but was startled by Montague's continued speech.

"I know you all must wonder how the process is done, as we keep it a careful secret from the youngsters, so here you are." Alan folded out a bit of parchment on the table in front of him. It held a list of all their names, excluding his own and David's.

"I'll be posting one of these in each of your dorms," he continued, "Which will hold your ranking, due to points."

"Points?" inquired Theodore Nott, a tall, slim boy with sand colored hair.

"Yes, Theo my boy. Points," David laughed.

"You may wonder how you will recieve these points, and we'll tell you. Tomorrow morning, each of you will recieve a letter by owl. The letter will contain a single phrase, the name of an object. You are expected to have this object to us by the end of the week. First to get theirs gets extra points."

"The one with the most points will gain the hefty title of House Representive and all that it entitles. Second will take my place," David said, throwing an arm loosly about Alan's shoulders. "And no hard feelings between the winners."

"Well? Off you go, then." 


	2. Chapter Two: The Assignment

The next morning dawned earlier than Draco could have imagined. This was possible in part by two things. First, all the boys in his dorm were already up, and second, the windows were open. Not once in his six years there had Draco seen the windows in his dormitory opened. 

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" he asked, rising stiffly from bed. He noticed his dorm-mates were gathered round the small corkboard on the wall by the door.

"Crabbe tried to give himself extra points this morning," Theo told Draco as he approached the group.

"And?"

"Well, the parchment's cursed, of course. He can't move his hand now," Blaise Zabini, a fiery red-headed boy with bright blue eyes, said with a laugh. "I'd like to see him find his hunt item now."

"Too true," Theo answered, grinning.

"Have any of us got points yet?" Draco asked curiously.

"Fiona Oliveraux and Daphne Greengrass," Blaise answered, pointing their names out on the register. "Looks like they were the first up this morning."

"Who?" Draco asked. He'd had a hard time figuring out the boys in his own dorm, let alone every Slytherin in his year.

"Daphne Greengrass, the tall red-head with the nice arse. And Fiona Oliveraux," Theo said shortly. "The half-blood girl, the one Blaise fancies."

"You bet Merlin's beard I do," he said with a grin. "She's fantastic. Have you seen her?"

"Looks pretty plain to me," Theo replied with a shrug.

"As much as your love life interests me, Blaise, I'm much more fond of breakfast," Draco paused, then raised his voice. "Could we all move away from the door? I want to get through."

Draco, Theo, and Blaise met Pansy and Milicent at their usual spot near the head of the Slytherin table. Somewhat to Draco's disappointment, they'd brought along Daphne.

"You're looking awfully smug, Daphne," Theo said, looking her up and down.

"Well, Fiona and I got first points this morning, didn't we?"

"No need to throw in in their faces, love," Alan said, appearing behind Daphne's shoulder. Theo gave him a sharp look, and Alan returned it with a smile. "Enjoy breakfast, kids."

Before they'd even had the chance to begin eating, the post came. Draco, who expectantly waited for his own owl to deliver his letter, was quite surprised when a grey school owl dropped his letter directly in his porridge.

He ripped the letter open to find the promised single phrase inside. The letter read:

Harry Potter's trousers.

"I should have stayed in bed this morning," Draco said, brushing bits of porridge from the front of his robes.


	3. Chapter Three: Harry's Trousers

Draco saw them in his mind's eye, tossed carelessly over the back of a plush red sofa. It wasn't a question of how he would get into the Gryffindor common room, but a question of how he could get out, while simultaneously smuggling a pair of Harry's trousers. 

As a matter of fact, getting into the common room had been deceptively simple. He'd always said that their trusting nature would be their downfall. He'd been let in by a supicious fourth year who was clearly suffering a cross between awe and disgust. He'd said he had Prefect business with that mudblood Granger, whom he well knew was in the library with Potty and the Weasel. When the girl dissapeared up a spiraling stair he rushed up the opposite, assuming this was where the boys slept. A stupid "Potter for President" banner on the wall opposite the third door led him to sneak in that room first. Sure enough, he saw a battered old trunk at the end of the first bed with a brass nameplate proclaiming it as Harry Potter's. Draco threw it open and quickly stole a pair of charcoal grey trousers. He sprinted down the stairs, and landed at the bottom utterly out of breath. He stowed the trousers down the front of his robes, smoothing out the wrinkles just as the girl clammored back down the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but Hermione's in the library."

"No matter," Draco answered, flashing his charming smirk, "I think I've got what I came for anyway." With a flourish, he left the room.


	4. Chapter Four: How Many Points?

He reappeared in his own common room a few minutes later, the trousers now folded and situated neatly on the center table in the room. When Alan and David walked through the door, Draco saunted toward them. 

"I believe you'll find my hunt item on the table there," Draco said carelessly, throwing this arm in that direction. "How many points does that give me?"

"Not nearly as many as you'd hoped. You're too snarky, you know that? Alan and I are deducting five points for your cheek."

Draco looked to Alan for some sort of help, but he stared back cooly.

"Sorry, mate. You're a bit of a prat," he said with a shrug. "Its just the way it works."

Draco stormed in the direction of his dorm when Alan called him back, "You can get those points back if you return the trousers without getting questioned."

"Simple," Draco smiled, all the while wondering how on earth he'd manage it.

He'd given it careful thought from the time he left the common room to the time he reached the library. It was in this time which he formulated his master plan.

Harry sat next to Hermione, Ron on her other side, engrossed in a book for prospective Aurors. Draco approached the table, and the three looked up.

"You oughtn't leave these things lying about," he said, tossing the trousers at Harry, who completely missed catching them. They landed on his shoulder, looking something like a scarf. That is, if Hermione had ever knitted elf scraves, this is what they would look like, only much lumpier.

"Erm... thanks?" Harry answered, looking to Hermione and Ron for help.

"Just don't do it again," Draco sighed, and left the library. He was pleased to find that when he returned to his dorm, his name was the one with the most points


	5. Chapter Five: The Bet

It became a daily ritual in the sixth year dorms to crowd around the parchment that held their scores, to see who had gotten extra points the day before. By the third day, Draco had learned to approach with caution. At any moment the boys might break out into a fight, throwing innocent bystanders right back into bed.

Draco warily skirted the edge of the group while quickly peeking at his own score, then slipped down to the common room. Pansy approached him the moment he walked through the door.

"You're winning," she said in a voice that she clearly thought was charming.

"Very true," Draco agreed. "As if you expected anything less. I Iam/I a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. Can you imagine what people would say if I lost?"

"You had better start imagining, Draco," said Daphne, who had just come down the stairs.

"And why's that?" Draco snapped.

"Because, I'm going to win," she answered. "Fiona and Milicent dropped out this morning, as did Crabbe and Goyle."

"Why did Fiona drop out?" Pansy asked. "She was doing better than any of us."

"Probably because no one wants a half-blood for Slytherin Rep, that's why," answered Draco.

"I actually think she's devoting more time to her studdies," Daphne said.

"You think what you want," Draco sighed, clearling disagreeing with her. "Back to the important things. I can't believe you actually think you can beat me!"

"Of course I can. I bet I beat you by at least ten points."

"What do you bet?" Draco asked slyly. 


	6. Chapter Six: Terms and Conditions

Daphne looked at Draco, wondering how much she should stake. 

"I'll bet you two hundred Galleons that I beat you by ten points," she said finally. Two hundred Galleons was little more the a few months of pocket money for her, as her family was just as old and wealthy as Draco's. Still, she _would_ be without sweets and new shoes for a few months…

"No, no, that won't do. Gold means nothing to me, I have all I need," Draco sighed. _When will people realize that money is no object to a Malfoy_, he wondered. "I want something more substantial... something I'd get more joy out of."

"Well, what, then?"

"Indentured servitude?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not!" Daphne retorted, her voice sounding utterly appalled.

"Oh, well for Merlin's sake, what could we possibly bet over?" Draco burst out exasperatedly. "As if either of us needs anything…"

"Other than amusement…" Daphne muttered. "Oh! I've got it! I'm bloody brilliant, I swear it."

"Out with it, then," Draco said, prodding her a bit with his finger.

"If I win, then you'll have to declare me the purest of blood, with the oldest, wealthiest family and the best lineage." She paused for effect, then continued casually, "Also, you'll have to befriend Potty, the Weasel and the Mudblood know-it-all." Daphne smiled cleverly at her idea.

"Same terms for you, then? If I win you have to declare me the all-'round best Slytherin and all that, and you have to befriend the dream team?" Draco asked.

"Its only fair," Daphne answered. As she was sure she'd win, she didn't even bat an eye.

"Right then. Shall we make a pact?" Draco inquired in a tone that suggested he certainly wouldn't agree otherwise.

"Let's," Daphne said, holding her hand out for his. They shook, both taking out their wands in the opposite hands.

"_Adsensus Compactum!_" they said in unison, and the pact was complete.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ Draco thought.


	7. Chapter Seven: The Sorting Hat

A week had past since Draco and Daphne had made their pact, and all the sixth years of consequence had dropped out of the running. This left Draco, Daphne, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson to compete for the two coveted titles. It was Saturday morning, and Draco wasn't expecting another hunt item for at least two more days, so when a brown school owl fluttered to his place at the table over breakfast, he was shocked.

Draco snatched the strip of parchment, staring at it confusedly. He had only just brought back his last item (Professor Snape's favourite quill) the day before. Still he unfolded the parchment with trembling fingers. There the paper was, its black ink contrasting vividly with the sepia-tinted color of the parchment.

_The Sorting Hat, _it said in cramped black letters.

Draco held the slip of paper tightly in his fist. _The Sorting Hat? he thought_. He didn't even know where the Sorting Hat was kept during the year. What if it was guarded by some kind of ancient magic? Would Alan and David allow him to get horribly cursed over a stupid competition?

"Of course they would," he muttered darkly to himself.

"Of course who would what?" Daphne asked, sitting lightly down next to him.

"Nothing," Draco snapped. After a pause he asked, "What's your item this week?"

"None of your ruddy business. If I tell you, you'll sabotage me so you can win."

"Don't be silly,' Draco said in his most charming voice. "You don't think our great leaders would allow us to sabotage each other, do you?"

"I certainly do," Daphne answered simply. "They're Slytherins." And with that she got up and walked away.

Draco sulked over his porridge. He stared into the thoughtfully into the bowl as if it were a pensieve. _I don't even like porridge_, he thought, and quickly pushed the bowl away, replacing it with a fat bacon sandwich. Breakfast in hand, he headed to the library.

It being a Saturday morning, the library was totally empty except for Madam Pince and the Mudblood Granger. _I wonder if she ever leaves_, thought Draco, picturing in his mind the frizzy-haired Mudblood kipping on a camp bed surrounded by disheveled piles of musty old books. He chuckled to himself, but was promptly shushed by Madam Pince.

"Buzzard," he muttered at her back as she stalked away. He mulled about in the 'Hogwarts History' section for nearly twenty minutes, piling books into his satchel before finally heading back to the main reading areas and dumping them all out again. Hermione raised her head to look at him when the books hit the table with a thud.

"Could you not do that? I'm trying to study," she spat.

Draco chose to ignore her, and grabbed the top book, flopping it open onto the table.

"What are you doing with _Hogwarts, A History_?" Hermione asked snidely. "No one but me ever reads that."

"But it's not yours, though, is it? No. So piss off and let me read."

"What could you possibly be reading for, though?" she pried. "Not homework, certainly."

"No, of course not. As though I do homework." Draco laughed. "Now shove off, you stupid Mudblood. I've got to find out where the Sorting Hat's kept, and I haven't a load of time." He began ruffling through the text again.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Draco snapped back frustratedly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm a curious boy," he answered, his voice filled with sarcasm.

"Well you could have just asked me," Hermione said, mostly talking to herself.

"What? You mean I'm sitting here doing actual _work_ when you already know?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yes. And if you knew anything about manners, you could ask me nicely and I might tell you."

"Well I suppose I'll just keep looking then," Draco said, slamming another book down heavily onto the table. He rustled the pages loudly for a few minutes before throwing the book on a nearby chair and repeating the process as loudly as possible.

"Will you shut up? I can't concentrate!" Hermione shouted, only to be loudly shushed by Madam Pince.

"I can't. I have to look, since you're too rude to just tell me." In his mind, he added_ Mudblood_ angrily to the end of his sentence.

"It's kept in Dumbledore's office!" Hermione burst out. "Now go away."

"Gladly," Draco said with a grin.


End file.
